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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119836">right back home again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhere_blake/pseuds/nowhere_blake'>nowhere_blake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stories from Chuck's abandoned Twin Verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brotherly Love, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Episode Related, Episode: s01e02 Wendigo, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Existential Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Outsider, Post-Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Post-Stanford Era (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has a Twin Brother, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester's Friends at Stanford, Sam and Dean's Tangled Mess, Shitty Pop Culture References, Sibling Incest, Stanford University, Third Winchester, Twin Sam Winchester, Twins, Unhealthy Relationships, although featuring somewhat of a redeeming moment, between Sam/Dean only, not literally but Dean parents these two like there is no tomorrow, the week after Jessica's death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:07:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhere_blake/pseuds/nowhere_blake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck's abandoned Twin Verse. Everything is the same, except for how Dean has two little brothers to take care of, instead of just the one.</p><p>It's like nothing's changed, they are back on the road, and Sam and Dean are arguing in the front like an old married couple, driving him crazy. Everything is just as it was before Sam left them to go to Stanford four years ago, except for how now he's grieving, ready to blow up any second, and - predictably - Dean indulges him. Oh, and Dad's missing. The fact that people can't tell which twin is which is the least of his problems, really. He also just really really hates Wendigos.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>stories from Chuck's abandoned Twin Verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>right back home again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=2FjhZob4I">2FjhZob4I</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for 2FjhZob4I - thank you for the coffees, love &lt;3 I really really hope you enjoy this!</p><p>my original character, Miles first appeared in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28048338">how to survive standing on both sides of the insider-outsider theory</a> but this work can be read as a stand-alone. keeping with the grandparents theme, he's named after their paternal grandmother, Millie Winchester.</p><p>🎧 check out my Ultimate Sam and Dean are Soulmates playlist <a href="https://princessconsuelapark.tumblr.com/post/635278264858984448/my-ultimate-sam-and-dean-are-soulmates-playlist"> here </a> if you fancy:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The week they spent in Palo Alto, desperately searching for a trail, anything on Jessica’s killer, seems a blur now. Dean drives a little faster than technically necessary, and as the vastness of America flies by the car windows, Miles relaxes a little more with every mile. He’s never quite understood Sam’s hatred of living on the endless highways of this country, which have always felt like home to Miles. He’s glad to finally leave the prickly air of Californian death behind them, the suffocating feeling that everyone on the Stanford campus knew about Jessica’s death, the musty one-bed - not that any of them slept more than a few hours at a time - motel room Dean managed to get for them. And, of course, the girl in the campus library, who’d mistaken him for Sam and came up to him to offer her condolences.</p><p>‘I heard about Jessica,’ she had said, her face a carefully constructed mixture of pity and understanding. (And Miles was intimately familiar with that expression, because people also made that face when you were careless enough to mention that your mother was dead.)</p><p>The girl - a pretty brunette, with a handbag that was definitely way too small to hold study materials of any kind - reached out and squeezed Miles’s arm. It was probably meant to be a comforting gesture, but her long nails scratched at his skin uncomfortably.</p><p>‘I’m so sorry, Sam.’ There were tears in her eyes.</p><p>‘Um.’ Miles was glancing towards the shelves where he last saw his brother, but the row was now empty. It was a split second decision. ‘Thank you,’ he said.</p><p>‘It’s just so horrible.’ She wiped at her eyes, and Miles adjusted to hunching his back a little, imitating Sam’s posture, suddenly conscious of his own body language. ‘Are you doing okay?’</p><p>‘Yeah, I’m... I’m fine,’ Miles assured her, pitching his voice different, trying for Sam’s lower register, but not quite succeeding. It’s been a while since he pretended to be Sam, and although to his own ears his voice sounded nothing like his brother’s, the girl seemed oblivious. Suddenly Miles was sure that she had no idea that Sam was even a twin.</p><p>‘Where are you sleeping? Brady says you’re not answering your phone.’</p><p>‘My- my family is here, I’ve got a place. Listen, I- I will talk to you later, okay? Tell, um, Brady not to worry.’</p><p>He wasn’t expecting her to hug him and he stumbled back a little with the impact. She smelled perfume-sweet and her touch was comforting.</p><p>To be honest, he was still a little hung up on the fact that Sam had actual friends here. Miles wondered when was the last time <em> he </em>had made a proper friend. Probably in middle school. Sure, he was friendly with a couple hunters, the younger ones, people like Lee Webb, but for as long as he could remember now, his social life had consisted of Dad, Sam, Dean, and nameless hookups in small-town bars.</p><p>‘Oscar-worthy stuff, Millie,’ Dean came up behind him, once the girl was finally out of sight. To Miles’s surprise, there was a genuine smile cutting through the exhaustion on his face. ‘You’re a regular Lindsay Lohan, Parent Trapping people, aren’t you?’</p><p>‘It’s <em> Miles</em>. And shut up. The last thing Sam needs right now is to be the boy with the girlfriend who died in a fire. And I really don’t think he’s in the mood for the whole “oh, you <em> do </em>look identical” routine.’</p><p>Dean nodded at him knowingly. If there was one thing they were always on the same page about it was wanting to protect Sam. Especially right now. Miles was certain Dean too could still remember the too-close warmth of the flames on his face from that night.</p><p>That didn’t mean Miles was immune to that pang of disappointment that came with knowing Sam didn’t tell his friends about him. He shuffled his feet, looked up at Dean. ‘Or actually, the “oh, you have a secret twin” routine. Apparently,’ he added bitterly.</p><p>Dean made a face at him, then companionably nudged him towards a reading table.</p><p>‘You know what he’s like,’ he shrugged, probably trying for a consoling tone. And Miles did. He knew Sam better than anyone, and it was no secret anyway that all Sam had ever wanted was normalcy. After a lifetime of always being the new freaky kid with the identical twin brother, it was no surprise that he jumped at the opportunity to be whoever he wanted to be here.</p><p>Sam had always been a little selfish like that, and while Miles never quite understood the impulse - this passionate, never-ending fight for individuality - he’d long ago accepted it as something that was an essential part of Sam. Still, being erased like this hurt like a son of a bitch. Sam had a whole entire life here that Miles wasn’t a part of, didn’t even exist in.</p><p>‘Yeah, I know,’ he murmured distractedly, and let Dean thrust a thick, leather-bound book, titled “The Encyclopedia of Witchcraft &amp; Demonology” into his hands.</p><p>‘Stop brooding and check this out. It has some stuff on demonic fire rituals.’</p><p>When Sam finally surfaced again - arms stacked with books - Miles only had to take one look at his face to know that Sam had seen him with the girl earlier. He was wearing his patented bitch-face, the version that said: “I don’t need you to protect me, but I appreciate it nevertheless.” Miles shrugged at him, because he was glad that just this once he could spare Sam the usual confusion and cross-examination, the staring and the comparing - like they were not people, but some sort of a spot the difference puzzle. He knew how much it bothered Sam, even under normal circumstances.</p><p>He watched Sam sit down next to Dean with a heavy thud, and just then - despite his height - he somehow looked smaller than Miles had ever seen him. He had dark circles under his eyes, his face was stubbly - he practically stank of grief. His eyes were red-rimmed too, like he’d been crying, but Miles thought that must have been the smoke-irritation, because he hadn’t seen him shed a single tear over Jessica. He seemed too angry for crying, really. For the first time in his life, Miles was suddenly struck by the thought that it was probably quite easy to tell them apart just then.</p><p>‘Anything?’ Sam asked hoarsely, and Miles didn’t miss the hopeful look he had shot in Dean’s direction, as if expecting their big brother to have all the answers.</p><p>Dean shook his head. ‘I’ll try Dad’s cell again,’ he was already standing, escaping, like he suddenly couldn’t bear to see Sam like this.</p><p>Miles watched Sam watch him walk away. Their eyes finally met over a reading lamp, when Sam turned back towards his books.</p><p>‘What?’ Sam asked him, all defensive hostility.</p><p>‘Look, we’ve been searching for days, man. If this is the same thing, Dad’s spent more than twenty years looking for it. We can stay until the funeral, but-’</p><p>‘I don’t want to stay for the funeral,’ Sam interrupted him, looking away.</p><p>Miles stared at him, took a deep breath. ‘Do you want me to- Would it help if I called back some of your friends?’</p><p>Sam’s haunted eyes snapped up from the book he was feigning to be so interested in reading. ‘What, pretending to be me? Haven’t you done enough of that?’</p><p>‘Jeez, okay, Sam, just trying to help,’ Miles lifted his hands, backing down.</p><p>He got back to his own book, looking for something, <em> anything </em> they could use as a starting point. He couldn’t really concentrate though, not with the warm feeling he got whenever he glanced up and just found - broken, sure, but finally in touching distance - Sam sitting there. It’d been a long four years. He was grateful for every little detail, every frown, the way he drew the sleeves of Miles’s hoodie down over his palms, as if he were perpetually cold, stretching out the fabric.</p><p>It was strangely disconcerting to see him wearing Miles’s clothes, when Sam had always been so big on boundaries. He spent most of their childhoods protecting whatever little he owned, like some sort of rabid guard dog; stitching his name into the collars of t-shirts, splitting up motel rooms down the middle, with salt lines that Miles’s mess was not supposed to cross.</p><p>(Miles made a point of not to ever think about how he hurriedly stealth-stuffed a few of his own shirts - the better ones, whatever he could find that didn't have any blood or ectoplasm-stains, really - into Sam's backpack the night he left for Stanford, because he didn't want Sam to get there and feel like he barely had anything compared to the other students.)</p><p>But now Sam’s stuff - at least whatever Dean and Miles managed to salvage from the apartment when the fire department was finished with it, while Sam was too busy obsessively retracing Jessica’s steps over her last few days - was still in trash bags, smelling horribly of smoke and death, haphazardly thrown into a corner of their motel room. Between questioning friends and neighbors, and spending hours in the university library, laundry had not exactly been their priority.</p><p>Miles didn’t even realize Sam would have nothing to wear until they finally managed to get him to take a shower, and Dean started rummaging through Miles’s bag to pull out some clean clothes for him. Sam didn’t question it. He silently accepted the clothes, asked for more coffee, and said he needed to go to the library.</p><p>Miles absolutely hated that he couldn’t tell whether this new aggressive silence of Sam’s came from grief, or he’d just grown quieter over the last four years. He got into the habit of inconspicuously reaching out and touching Sam every time he found a new edge to him that he wasn’t familiar with, whenever Sam used words or expressions he hadn’t before, or ordered a meal Miles wasn’t expecting him to. A tap on the shoulder, a pat on the back. Just to be sure Sam was still his Sam. Just as identical as ever.</p><p>When Dean returned to their table - Sam instinctively looked behind him, as if he could <em> feel </em> Dean coming back into the room - he seemed disappointed, as well as hungry.</p><p>Sam hadn’t wanted to leave yet, but Miles could tell that the staring was getting to him a little. It was obvious that news of Jessica’s death had really spread all over, and everyone knew who Sam was.</p><p>The second time Miles and Dean started talking at the same time in an attempt to drown out the whispering about the fire from a nearby table, Sam actually flinched.</p><p>‘Okay,’ Dean said, starting to pack up their books with an air of finality, just as Miles reached out to gently touch his open palm to Sam’s arm for a few reassuring seconds.</p><p>‘Let’s go.’</p><p> </p><p>x</p><p> </p><p>It’s now two days after the library, eight days after Jess burned on the ceiling, and Sam is mumbling about her in his sleep. He’s passed out against the cold of the passenger seat window.</p><p>Miles can feel the Impala shiver on the road under Dean’s normally steady hands the very moment her name leaves Sam’s mouth. The tips of his own fingers go white on the buttons of his ancient gameboy: he overshoots a jump and Diddy Kong falls off the little black and white platform.</p><p>When he looks up, his eyes instinctively seek out Dean’s face first, rather than his twin’s. It’s childhood instinct: he can always trust Sam to be right there next to him - the sound of his breathing so often synced up with his own heartbeat - but direction, that he needs from his big brother. He is just like Sam that way.</p><p>Dean looks anxious, and he’s not even pretending to be looking at the road. Miles has half a mind to yell at him for that, but the highway is deserted and his brother is clenching his jaw so tightly, as he watches Sam dream, that Miles thinks he might snap a tooth any minute.</p><p>As if sensing the intensity of Dean’s gaze on him, Sam suddenly jerks awake, with a horrible cut-off little sound, that makes Miles completely forget about road safety. He frowns worriedly at the back of Sam’s head.</p><p>‘You okay?’ Dean asks Sam, gently, like he’s a child, in a patronizing tone that has Miles annoyed on Sam’s behalf - he’s been on the receiving end of that voice - while simultaneously filling him with dread. Because if Dean, the bravest person in the world (not counting Dad, of course) is this worried, then something must be seriously wrong.</p><p>‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Sam says, and Miles recognizes that tone too, he doesn’t even have to see Sam to know he’s lying.</p><p>‘Another nightmare?’</p><p>Miles watches Dean’s face go so soft that he has to look away eventually, a little embarrassed for him.</p><p>There’s a moment of silence, Sam doesn't reply. Then, ‘Wanna drive for a while?’ Dean offers, and okay, Miles’s head snaps back up at <em> that</em>, because... <em> What? </em></p><p>At least Sam seems just as incredulous as he feels: ‘Dean, your whole life, you never once asked me that.’</p><p>Dean - looking caught, almost guilty - predictably draws back. ‘Just thought you’d might want to. Never mind.’</p><p>‘Can <em> I </em>drive?’ Miles chimes up from the back, a little offended, but mostly just desperate to ease the tension with some of their usual back and forth.</p><p>‘If you as much as touch my car, Miles, I will break your fingers,’ Dean grumbles casually, so Miles huffs out a breath - more relieved than anything - and gets back to his gameboy.</p><p>Sam, who’s used to their bickering, ignores them. ‘Look, man, you’re worried about me, I get it. And thank you, but I’m perfectly okay.’</p><p>Dean sarcastically hums at him, while Miles lets out a disbelieving snort, not even looking up this time. In his peripheral vision he catches Sam shoot him a dirty look - like he expected Miles to be on his side with this - then reach for the map, as a distraction.</p><p>‘All right, where are we?’</p><p> </p><p>It’s an hour or so later, and Miles is pretending to be asleep in the back, so Sam and Dean can fight in relative privacy.</p><p>He thinks it might have started with Sam second-guessing their decision to leave Stanford so soon, but Miles lost the thread of the argument a while back, lulled into sleepiness by the familiar rocking of the car and the blurry yellow lines of the road. He knows it’s hopeless to make an attempt at discerning exactly what Sam and Dean are on about at this point anyway, so he doesn’t even try. As glad as he is to have Sam back - grieving and with a wildfire shining in his eyes, but at least right here, riding shotgun, exactly where he’s supposed to be - he certainly didn’t miss this. The <em> Sam and Dean </em>of it all.</p><p>There’s the looks, of course, and that unmistakable tension between them that can make the car feel oddly silent, even with Led Zeppelin blaring from the radio. Then the way they understand each other, effortlessly, like they have their own rhythm, and everyone else around them is just slightly off-beat.</p><p>But it’s not like Miles is not used to that, hadn’t grown up like that. Maybe he just wasn’t expecting them to fall back into it so easily. After the last four years of hurt silence - only interrupted by the occasional stilted phone conversation - he thought they’d be awkward around each other at first, perhaps tiptoe and feign politeness. It’s what <em> he </em> would have done.</p><p>Sam is not like him though. Certainly not with Dean.</p><p>From the moment they got on the road to Jericho, following their father’s trail, Sam and Dean continued right where they left off. Argumentative and a little crazy, shouting at each other on haunted bridges in the middle of the night, but the rapport instinctive and easy between them, like always.</p><p>They worked the Woman in White case - the one-time Winchester brothers reunion of ‘05, or so they thought - and it was exactly like four years ago. The fact that Sam had a girlfriend waiting for him, back in Palo Alto, or that Dean was now aware that Miles knew about how deep their relationship truly ran, did not seem to matter in the slightest.</p><p>And Miles - despite Dad’s absence, like a constant anxiety headache, burning in the back of all their minds - was having fun.</p><p>‘You’re damn good at this, you know that, right?’ he said to Sam as they were saying their goodbyes after the case. (He loved Sam too much to say what he was actually thinking: <em> you know you belong right here, with us, right? </em> Not that his brother couldn’t read him like an open book.) Sam just touched his open palm to Miles’s arm - a reassurance, a promise. <em> I’m still right here. </em> Then a slight shake of his head. <em> But I need to do this. </em></p><p>And Miles understood. Sam wanted to do his interview, go to law school - to prove them, <em> prove Dad, </em>(and maybe himself as well), a lesson about normalcy, about getting out, about god knows what else.</p><p>‘Knock ‘em dead tomorrow, yeah?’ Miles said, knowing Sam would understand the offer of unconditional support behind the words.</p><p>Sam smiled at him gratefully. ‘I will,’ was the only goodbye he said.</p><p> </p><p>They never really needed a lot of words between the two of them. They learned to talk at the same time, following Dean’s speech patterns, interpreting Dad’s different kinds of silences, which were a language all on their own. Most of the time they were so in tune with each other that words often seemed superfluous.</p><p>‘Did you know that forty percent of twins invent their own made-up languages, spoken only amongst themselves?’ he remembered asking Sam once, probably around age twelve, having stumbled upon some article. ‘Apparently it’s very common in early childhood, then it disappears growing up. Weird. We never had that.’</p><p>Sam looked up at him from where he was sprawled out on his neatly made bed, doing history homework. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Dean let out a loud snort.</p><p>They both looked towards the rickety little table where Dad and Dean were cleaning weapons. Dean looked amused. Dad had a sawed-off in his hand and was staring at them with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>‘What?’ Miles asked into the annoying silence, but Dad and Dean just burst out laughing.</p><p>‘There was a whole summer you two refused to use proper English and only spoke in your gibberish,’ Dad had said finally, with laughter shining in his eyes still, as he turned towards Dean,’ What were they - five? Someone came up to me once, and asked me what country we were from!’</p><p>Miles stared at him - surprised by the story itself, and a little taken aback that Dad was telling it in the first place. It was rare to see their father like this. Miles thought being carefree didn’t really suit John Winchester, but maybe that was just because he was not used to him like this. Whenever he laughed, acted just like your average dad, it was like stealing little glimpses into the past, seeing the man he must have been before Mom died. It felt wrong somehow, like it was cheating. That man, telling anecdotes about his little twin boys with unusual tenderness in his eyes, wasn’t who their father was, and Miles had accepted that a long time ago. He was okay with it. Waking up at the crack of dawn, salting motel windows, living on the road, shoplifting candy at gas stations, because the money was supposed to be for <em> real </em> food, waiting hours by some payphone for Dad to check in, because he promised - it felt <em> safe</em>. Familiar. Those were the kinds of situations where Miles felt in his element.</p><p>A single look back at Sam told him, his twin brother didn’t exactly share that feeling. Sam was watching Dad with reverent eyes - the ones he’d normally reserved exclusively for Dean - and he looked a little bit like he’d just, well, seen a ghost. A ghost of something that could have been, something he yearned for, but could never have. Miles pitied him for that just a little.</p><p>Their eyes finally met, and Sam shrugged at him, as if saying <em> I can’t remember inventing our own twin language either</em>, but then he didn’t look away. Miles felt like Sam was x-raying his brain, studying his thoughts, like the way he skimmed a library book, looking for the right incantation, skipping right to the important parts. Seemingly having found what he was looking for, he shrugged again, but this time it meant something different. <em> I get it. I get the way you feel, even if I don’t quite understand it, even if I want something else. </em></p><p>‘Tell you what though,’ Dean said from the table, and Miles forced himself to break eye-contact with Sam. ‘Playing “I spy” with you two in the car? It’s freaking annoying. You always know what the other’s thinking.’</p><p>They all laughed. Like a normal little family. Except they were everything but. Guns on the motel table, right next to the half-empty box of breakfast cereal. A brotherly wrestling match when Sam realized Miles was sneakily copying his homework, which - instead of ever even attempting to break up - Dad surveyed like a coach. Their brother finally stepping in to stop them, because he knew they were skilled enough to cause each other real harm if things got out of hand.</p><p>‘Right, what’s your secret twin code for “it’s way past your bedtimes and Dad said we’re doing drills early before school tomorrow”?’</p><p>They raced each other to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Miles remembered that Sam eventually did let him copy his homework on the school bus, the next morning. He reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder, all meaningful and long, counting the seconds. <em> One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven… </em>Sam knew to take it as the thank-you it was.</p><p> </p><p>Sam and Dean though… So maybe Sam and Miles didn’t need words sometimes, maybe they used to have their own secret language when they were five. But when Sam got out of the car in Palo Alto that night to say goodbye after Jericho, then turned to look through the passenger seat window to lock eyes with Dean… <em> fuck</em>.</p><p>There was a whole lifetime of emotions conveyed in just that one look. Miles was suddenly reminded of being seven and begging Sam to teach him how to read Dean’s mind. There are still some moments when he’s not entirely convinced that Sam can’t.</p><p>And now, as they argue like this, Miles can’t help but think, this is why they don’t see how wrong it is, this is why they can’t resist the physical side of their relationship, why the taboo of incest doesn’t matter to them. They are already too entangled to ever say no to each other - if they never touched each other again it wouldn't be any different, any less fucked up.</p><p>It’s a little nauseating, the way - despite Sam’s aggressive moodiness - Dean is acting like a starved man, looks desperate for whatever Sam is willing to give him, even if it’s just fighting like a married couple. Like always - not necessarily uncomplicatedly, but certainly without any hesitation - Sam and Dean adjust to each other, like there is an invisible cord tying them together, and when one of them steps away, the other has to follow. Sam’s not okay, definitely not ready to get back to the way they were, but Dean instinctively knows not to ask for more than what’s on offer.</p><p>Miles squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can, tries to tune out their voices. The car speeds forward, and Sam and Dean continue their arguing, like they’re picking at a wound as it’s still healing and just making it worse, until it scars, like tugging on a knot to pull it apart, but accidentally making it tighter. When Miles finally does drop off, he dreams of the three of them digging graves, but no matter how deep they go, they never find any coffins.</p><p> </p><p>x</p><p> </p><p>He is reluctant to leave Sam behind. He can see that Dean is not entirely comfortable with it either, like he’s expecting Sam to just up and hitchhike back to Stanford, the moment he’s left alone, or something. One of them has to stay though - and this is a part Miles didn’t miss, while Sam was gone. While being identical definitely has its advantages when it comes to hunting, they know from experience that they’d draw too much unwanted attention talking to witnesses in a small place like Lost Creek.</p><p>Sam doesn’t seem bothered at all. He asks the girl behind the motel desk where the nearest internet café is before they even get their keys.</p><p>Once inside, he grabs Miles’s laptop out of his bag without asking.</p><p>‘Excuse <em> you</em>, that’s mine,’ Miles gapes at him, before Dean pointedly treads on his foot, making him realize that Sam’s own computer got destroyed in the fire.</p><p>‘Look, if you insist on talking to this Haley girl, just drop me off at that internet place. I’ll try and figure out what’s actually going on in these woods,’ Sam says distractedly, head oh-so-obviously already in research mode.</p><p>Miles and Dean make eye-contact behind his back, and the silence is loaded enough for Sam to notice. He rolls his eyes when he spots the expression on Miles’s face.</p><p>‘I’ll be fine. I’m not a child, okay? I can be left alone for five minutes.’</p><p>It’s weird, watching him get out of the car and turn away from them yet again, and while Miles logically knows this is nothing like the last time, his heart tightens uncomfortably. Evidently he’s not exactly alone in hating to see Sam walk away, no matter what the reason; Dean takes a beat, staring at their brother’s retreating back before he finally lets himself drive away.</p><p>‘Not to be a killjoy here or whatever,’ Miles says, as he climbs across the bench seat, dropping down next to Dean gracelessly in the front, ‘but I really doubt finding Dad will actually improve his mood. In fact, it might make it considerably worse.’</p><p>Dean grumbles something that sounds like amused agreement. ‘Yeah, I’ll say.’ But there is an anxious undertone to his voice that makes Miles look away and comb his fingers through his hair nervously.</p><p> </p><p>Dean, of course, immediately hits on the girl with the missing brother, which - while a touch inappropriate - is so predictably him, Miles finally feels on firmer ground, like things are getting back to normal.</p><p>‘<em>Ooh, nice car, Dean</em>,’ he teases his brother, imitating Haley’s voice quietly, as they are invited into the kitchen.</p><p>Miles is not expecting the third sibling, sitting at the table, staring at his laptop screen. He looks way too young and his big brother is missing. Pain shoots through Miles’s chest for some reason, and he finds himself speechless, so it’s Dean who starts the questioning.</p><p>‘Could it be that he’s just having fun and he forgot to check in?’</p><p>‘He wouldn’t do that,’ the other brother - Ben - says forcefully, finally looking up from his computer screen, and they all turn to look at him.</p><p>‘Our parents are gone,’ Haley explains. ‘It’s just my two brothers and me. We keep pretty close tabs on each other.’</p><p>Miles’s heart is now in his throat, and his eyes find Dean’s across the room. Not that they were about to ignore the coordinates Dad has left them - even if he himself seems nowhere to be found - but the look of determination that passes between them just then settles it. They are finding Ben and Haley’s brother if it’s the last thing they do.</p><p>‘Tommy’s been gone, what - three days?’ Dean says to him, back in the car. ‘<em>We’d </em> already be tearing up the goddamn forest if we thought Sam was missing.’</p><p>Miles nods at that darkly. He’s not quite ready to entertain any hypotheticals of Sam in danger just yet, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget sitting in the Impala - just a week ago, just like this, Dean and him - watching the light turn on in Sam and Jessica’s apartment after dropping him off that night, right in time for his stupid interview. There was something in the air, and neither of them had moved. Dean showed no intention of driving away any time soon, and Miles never questioned him. He could feel it too. They just got Sam back - even if just for a few days - and they were both reluctant to let him go again. So they just sat there, defeated and silent, as if waiting for something to happen that would bring Sam back to them.</p><p>It’s morbid to think about it now, almost like they <em> wished </em> for the demon themselves, and Miles shivers. (He briefly wonders if Dean could somehow sense the danger already in that moment just before, his sixth sense about Sam kicking in.) For a moment he feels guilty for sending up a prayer that it was not Sam, but Jessica who burned on the ceiling, that it’s Haley’s brother missing in the woods now, and not his own. One look at the tight line of Dean’s mouth though, and he knows with unquestionable certainty that his brother is thinking the exact same thing. Miles’s guilt slips away.</p><p> </p><p>They settle down to reconvene in a bar a few miles down the road, right after they pick up Sam. Miles eyes the pool table hopefully, thinking of ways he could trick Sam into playing, maybe bringing him out of his sulk a little. Now that he’s thinking about it, a hustle wouldn’t hurt them either - Miles forgot how much more expensive it was financing the three of them instead of just the two, especially since Dad had been so absent over the past year.</p><p>‘So, what did you find out?’ Sam asks them, as he’s trying to make room for the drinks Dean’s carrying, pushing his stacks of paper to the side.</p><p>‘Dean, you’re spilling shit all over Sam’s research,’ Miles notes absent-mindedly, but without any intention of helping to solve the situation, too busy trying to figure out whether the blonde at the next table is trying to flirt with him, or if she’s just staring because of the identical twin thing.</p><p>‘Well, one of you asshats, could have come and helped me, maybe then I wouldn’t be.’</p><p>Miles waves a lazy hand at Dean’s grumbling, and turns back to Sam, ready to bring him up to speed.</p><p>‘So get this. Haley Collins is not just hot, but also has good taste in cars, so obviously Dean tried to marry her on the spot… <em> Ow</em>, Dean, stop hitting me. Anyway, she and her brother are planning on going out to Blackwater Ridge tomorrow to look for Tommy themselves. And I think there might be something weird on one of these videos Tommy sent them, but I need my laptop. She emailed them to me.’</p><p>Sam nods at him thoughtfully, fishes out Miles’s laptop from his bag. He starts telling them about all the disappearances he’s found, going back years.</p><p>Miles is almost done downloading the video messages by the time it occurs to him.</p><p>‘Hey, how did you figure out my password?’ he frowns at Sam, interrupting whatever Dean was just saying.</p><p>‘Dude. I was talking.’</p><p>‘Oh whatever, Dean. <em> Sam? </em>’</p><p>The kick to his shin he gets from Dean is absolutely worth it, because that’s the first genuine smile he’s seen on Sam’s face in who knows how long.</p><p>‘Man, Miles, you love Sarah Michelle Gellar <em> way </em>too much.’</p><p>Miles can’t quite tame the grin on his face. Fuck, he missed Sam. ‘Shut up, I’m still upset over Buffy ending,’ he shoots back, not at all convincingly.</p><p>‘Okay, Skywalker twins, what do you say, we break up the geek party and go and visit this Shaw guy that Sam found? Get a first-hand witness account and figure out what the hell is going on here exactly, yeah?’</p><p>Miles shakes his head, suppresses a smile at Dean’s poking at them, resists the urge to say <em> wrong franchise</em>. ‘Nah, I’m gonna try and do something with the videos Haley sent me. Sam is better with traumatized people anyway… Here, Sam. Ranger ID.’</p><p>Sam catches the ID in the air rather gracefully, inspects the picture on it. ‘You look like a baby in this, Miles,’ he comments gleefully.</p><p>‘Yeah, we need to do new pictures soon,’ Dean agrees.</p><p>Sam’s eyes snap up at Miles right away, but he’s not quick enough.</p><p>‘Not it.’</p><p>‘Not-’</p><p>‘Oh, Sammy, <em> way </em> too slow,’ Dean taunts him. ‘You, Mr. Winchester, are the unlucky winner of a free ID photoshoot.’</p><p>‘We could do separate photos for me and Miles,’ Sam suggests, all pouty, and he looks so young, so much like the brother Miles lost four years ago - who was moody, sure, but wasn’t <em> grieving </em> - that he feels tears scratching at the back of his throat.</p><p>‘Like anyone can tell the difference,’ Dean rolls his eyes, but Miles can tell from the relieved drop of his shoulders that he would do anything for this Sam too. Young and untainted, without his California tan or his strange silences and volatile mood changes, a Sam that’s still <em> theirs</em>. Sam is still smiling a little, and <em> it’s like stealing little glimpses into the past, seeing the person he was before Jess died</em>, Miles’s mind supplies, and he has to shake himself to get rid of the image of Dad in his mind. Sam is not Dad.</p><p>‘<em>You </em>can tell the difference,’ Sam tells Dean petulantly, but there’s not much force behind it.</p><p>‘Well, I’m just special like that. Come on. Let’s go.’</p><p>Dean’s already shrugged his jacket on, when the blond, who was eyeing Miles, decides to finally come over from the neighboring table.</p><p>‘Hey, are you guys twins?’</p><p>Miles doesn’t look up at Sam, but he can picture it perfectly; his face getting wiped of all emotion in a split second, shutting down, his previously open expression snapping into an unreadable mask, fast and immediate, like a shotgun kicking back at your shoulder.</p><p>‘Yeah, hi, I’m the handsome one,’ Miles laughs at the girl a little awkwardly, offering one of his standard replies, waving her towards the seat Sam’s just vacated.</p><p>Sam murmurs an apology and he’s already walking away, but Dean stands there for another moment. He looks her over.</p><p>‘More like he’s the dumb one,’ he says in a light tone, trying to embarrass Miles, like usual, but his eyes seem accusing. It’s like he blames Miles for Sam’s sudden mood-change, almost like he’s angry at him for even being there right now, a cloud of emotion that looks dark and uncontrollable. It’s only a fraction of a second though, and by the time Miles looks back up at his big brother, he’s already out the door. Miles decides it was just the trick of the light, and turns back towards the girl.</p><p> </p><p>He strikes out with the blond in the end, and then loses the rock-paper-scissors battle with Sam for the second bed. He complains loudly for the rest of the night about Dean’s apparent exemption (‘Come <em> on</em>, Dean. The Woman in White? She almost carved Sam’s heart out, what does <em> your </em>back even hurt from?’) but in the end Miles has no choice but take the rollaway bed. He never thought he’d miss the days when Sam and Dean were oh-so-eager to share beds in motels.</p><p>Sam has another nightmare at dawn, and Miles just lies awake listening to Dean get up, fill a glass with water and mutely place it on Sam’s bedside table.</p><p>‘I’m fine, De’,’ Sam whispers into the tense silence of the room, the nickname probably slipping out inadvertently, out of distress, out of exhaustion.</p><p>Miles listens intently, waits for the tell-tale creak of the mattress, the soft rustling of the sheets, can picture Dean climb in next to Sam, nudge him a little so he’ll share the covers.</p><p>Instead there is a shock of bright light that hurts Miles’s eyes, even from behind his closed lids, and Dean shuts the door of the bathroom behind himself with a metallic click. Miles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He suddenly wishes Dad was here to distract him with a cruelly long early morning run.</p><p> </p><p>x</p><p> </p><p>Haley does a double-take when Miles gets out of the backseat of the Impala, and her look of bewilderment is downright comical. Miles doesn’t care that he’s seen that exact expression on hundreds of faces before, it never gets old.</p><p>‘So what, you’re <em> twin rangers</em>?’ she asks, with a hand on her hip, and Miles decides he likes her.</p><p>‘No, my brother’s just tagging along,’ Sam says a little coldly, before Miles could say anything. Not that it really matters. She obviously can’t tell them apart.</p><p>The guide Haley hired - <em> Roy </em>- seems even less pleased with this new development regarding hiking companions. Dean, of course, latches onto that, and seems delighted to take advantage of every single opportunity he finds to piss him off.</p><p>‘Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?’</p><p>Miles smirks, but Sam just looks annoyed. They both watch Haley’s face as Roy saves Dean from stepping right into a bear trap and it’s immediately obvious that their cover is blown. It doesn’t come as a surprise when she strides ahead to catch up with Dean, grabs at his arm a little forcefully.</p><p>‘So who the hell are you?’</p><p>Dean pauses, waits until the younger brother, Ben passes them. He looks up, and Miles is so used to it only being the two of them that he’s suddenly dumbfounded when Dean’s eyes seek out Sam instead of him. He watches as Sam imperceptibly nods back at him, giving Dean <em> permission</em>, then carries on walking. Dean watches him go, and only then does he finally glance at Miles, like an afterthought. Miles doesn’t think he’d be able to move a muscle right that moment, even if there was a black dog chasing after him. His feet feel like they’ve permanently become one with the forest floor.</p><p>Dean frowns at him, but eventually just turns back to Haley.</p><p>‘Sam and Miles are my brothers, and we’re looking for our father. He might be here, we don’t know. I just figured that you and me, we’re in the same boat.’</p><p>Haley seems satisfied with that at last, and so they go on. Dean shoots him a questioning look over his shoulder, but Miles just ignores him. When Dean’s not looking, he steals a handful of his M&amp;Ms and enjoys the childish retaliation.</p><p>He tells himself he just needs to get used to it again, that he just wasn’t expecting them to be so in sync so soon again, at least not about hunting, not about cover stories and tactical stuff. He seeks out Haley’s brother as a distraction, gets into a long conversation with him about how he wants to study astronomy in college - if they manage to save up enough money for his tuition, of course. It doesn’t quite work as he hoped - Miles’s mind keeps circling back to Sam and Dean. He only now realizes, how much he hoped that things wouldn’t be the same this time around, that Dean’s heartbreak over Sam leaving them to go to college would still be a big enough problem that he’d put Miles first for once. Not <em> forever</em>, of course, Miles was never delusional enough to expect that. Just a little while longer.</p><p>He hates always coming second behind Sam, even if Dean is not - and would never be - doing it consciously. He <em> hates </em>it. And yet, it’s not like Miles would be willing to give Sam up, now that he finally has him back. So he treads on determinedly and sucks it up. That’s what Dad would tell him to do.</p><p>The campsite turns out a blood-soaked mess, and he comforts Ben as best as he can. The calls for help that trick them away from there and cost them Roy’s satellite phone and provisions, rattle them all. Miles stares at his brother, and he can almost see Dean’s mind flick through all the possibilities, but Sam and him get there first.</p><p>‘It’s smart. It wants to cut us off, so we can’t call for help,’ Sam says, locking eyes with Miles. They realize it at the exact same time.</p><p>They both ignore Roy’s theory about how it’s probably some nutjob, stealing their gear, and move towards Dean as one.</p><p>‘We need to speak to you,’ Miles says to him, still staring at his twin.</p><p>‘In private,’ Sam adds with a meaningful look.</p><p>‘Jeez, do you two ever stop being creepy? You’re even giving me the same look,’ Dean complains, but lets Sam steer him a little ways away from the rest of the group.</p><p>‘Shut up and let me see Dad’s journal,’ Miles tells him impatiently.</p><p>He starts flipping through it, but in the end it’s Sam who finds the right page.</p><p>He reaches over Miles’s shoulder, points to the drawing. He’s close enough that Miles can feel his warm breath hitting the side of his neck. The forest is eerily quiet around them. Miles shivers. The last thing he needed in his life right now was a fucking Wendigo.</p><p>Haley surprises Miles by not being a sceptic. She asks Dean about the Anasazi symbols they are warding the camp with, while Miles makes sure the campfire will last them the whole night.</p><p>He doesn’t have to look up to know that Sam’s retreated to the edge of the site, in another one of his moods. Instead of obsessing over his twin’s newfound volatility, he continues to poke at the fire with a stick, lost in his thoughts. He barely reacts to Dean coming up behind him, hitting him in the shoulder.</p><p>‘What’s up, kiddo?’ he asks.</p><p>‘Nothing,’ Miles shakes his head, throwing the stick into the fire and watching it burn.</p><p>Apparently that’s the incorrect answer however, because Dean hits him again - harder, this time.</p><p>‘<em>Ow</em>, Dean!’</p><p>‘I have a hard enough time figuring Sam out, not you too, Millie,’ he moans dramatically. ‘I swear, you’re just as bad as each other.’</p><p>Miles can’t help the quirk of his mouth at that. ‘You take that back. I’m nowhere near as bad as Sam.’</p><p>Dean raises an eyebrow at him. ‘So you’re good?’</p><p>Miles bites back his reflexive <em> I’m fine </em> and actually considers it. Is he?</p><p>‘Not really how I imagined the big reunion. It’s been a long week,’ he admits finally, and to his surprise Dean lets out a bitter little chuckle.</p><p>‘You can say that again.’ He seems to consider Miles for a moment, then he deliberately opens his palm and touches it to Miles’s arm for a reassuring second. Miles is so surprised by Dean using a gesture that he normally associates with Sam that he makes a strange, hiccupping sound at the back of his throat.</p><p>Dean doesn’t pay it any mind, he just pulls himself up to his full height so he can make proper eye-contact with him, and suddenly Miles is struck by the thought that maybe he makes assumptions about Dean’s emotions too quickly sometimes. ‘We on the same page though?’</p><p>Miles sighs. ‘Yeah. Save their brother, kill the thing, do the job Dad wants us to do.’</p><p>‘Exactly. And maybe get the girl at the end,’ Dean smirks at him.</p><p>Miles smiles back at his brother tiredly, certain that Dean would never seriously pursue Haley while Sam was still like this. There’s no girl in the universe that can distract Dean when he’s worried about Sam.</p><p>Miles inadvertently searches out Sam’s dark silhouette at the mention of Dean “getting the girl” and he knows Dean notices. When Miles turns back towards him, he looks down a little awkwardly, his posture drooping again. Despite everything going on, Miles finds himself disturbingly intrigued. It’s hard to tell with the flames from the campfire illuminating his brother’s face in a sick imitation of the night of Jess’s death, but Miles thinks he might be blushing. <em> Huh. </em>Dean has yet to acknowledge their drunken almost-barfight from two weeks ago, when Miles more or less accidentally told him that he knows about the physical relationship between him and Sam, that he’s always known.</p><p>Dean’s face does something complicated, then he clears his throat - ready to move on - and he says, ‘So what’s Sammy’s problem?’</p><p>‘You’re asking me?’ Miles replies, not quite ready to let go of the previous moment just yet. ‘He’s <em>your</em> brother,’ he challenges, but Dean doesn't take the bait.</p><p>‘<em>My </em> brother? He’s <em> your </em>twin!’</p><p>Miles elbows him in the side, his mood somewhat lifted. ‘You should talk to him.’</p><p>‘Can’t you do your whole twin telepathy thing and be done with it?’ Dean asks, feigning annoyance.</p><p>Miles rolls his eyes, in a decidedly Sam-like fashion. ‘You’re such an asshole, Dean. Go and talk to him.’</p><p>‘Any guesses though?’</p><p>‘I dunno, I’d say he’s frustrated that he can’t make any sense of what Dad’s doing, where he is,’ Miles says with a shrug, and while the words seem to come to him from no discernible place of logic, as he says them, he knows he’s right. ‘If it were up to him, we’d probably take these people back to safety, leave Lost Creek, and never think about these woods ever again.’</p><p>‘Well, we’re not doing that,’ says Dean.</p><p>Miles rolls his eyes again. '<em>I </em>know that, Dean.’</p><p> </p><p>When Dean finally ambles away to sit down next to Sam, Miles doesn't let himself watch them and analyze their body language, squinting in the dark, all stalker-like. Instead he makes sure Haley and Ben are okay, and when Ben asks him what it’s like having a twin, he indulges him.</p><p>‘It’s mostly fun,’ he says honestly, searching his brain for a funny anecdote about someone mixing them up, trying hard not to think about the girl from the library in Palo Alto.</p><p>He doubts Sam ever willingly talks to people about being a twin, but Miles is usually more than happy to volunteer that piece of information about himself. When Sam was at Stanford, talking about him made him feel less alone, less of a whole that’s been broken in half. So he mentioned it to girls in bars, sneaked it into small talk with witnesses and cops, as many times as he could. It was as if saying it out loud made their <em> twinness </em> feel more solid, like somehow Sam not being there meant he wasn’t <em> really </em> a twin anymore, and Miles had to <em> make </em>it real by talking about it, lest their DNA suddenly start changing. Looking back on it, he’s not quite sure how he could even stand being apart from him for so long.</p><p>And yet, even after all these years of practice, after the typical first question - <em> are you identical? </em> - he still doesn’t really know how to honestly answer the usual follow-up. <em> Do you like having a twin? </em></p><p>The thing is, he’s never known anything else. He can’t really imagine himself existing without Sam, it seems everything he’s ever done has been influenced by his brother in some way. Does <em> he </em> like having a twin? To him the question sounds like people are asking if he likes being alive, if he likes breathing. It certainly <em> feels </em> right, he thinks. But then again, he already was a twin before he was even <em>born.</em> He didn’t exactly have much say in it.</p><p>It sometimes scares him how much he feels like he depends on Sam, even when they are on opposite sides of the country, and fuck, he’s the one judging Sam and Dean for <em> their </em>codependency? No that Sam's too much better when it comes to him. He smiles, thinks about Sam at eight, refusing to go to school without Miles, who was in bed, sick with the flu at the time.</p><p>‘What’s the point?’ Sam had said, sat down at the foot of his bed in protest, with an air of comical finality, finally forcing Dean into submission. Eight-year-old Sam was stubborn like nothing else, and was a formidable opponent when it came to getting what he wanted.</p><p>In the end Dean skipped school himself, spent the day reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy to them out loud - at Sam’s insistence; to make Miles feel better. And that’s just it. Because - at the risk of sounding all chick-flick - where would Miles be without Sam?</p><p>He shakes himself, uncomfortable under Ben’s gaze all of a sudden. He tries his hardest not to think about how, while he can’t even picture himself without Sam, he has no trouble imagining <em> Sam </em> without a twin. <em> Come on. Funny story about twin mix-ups... </em></p><p>‘So, okay, one year, we were spending the summer at our uncle Bobby’s and…’</p><p>His story never gets the laugh it deserves, because right in the middle of it Roy decides to be stupid and get himself killed.</p><p> </p><p>x</p><p> </p><p>When Haley and Dean go missing the next day, Sam loses his damn fucking mind. Miles thinks he himself is only not panicking as much, because he’s too busy attempting to keep Sam calm.</p><p>When they finally find the entrance to the abandoned mine, following Dean’s improvised breadcrumbs, Sam just fucking marches ahead, like Dad wasn't a Marine, like they knew nothing about the dangers of unpreparedness. Miles grabs onto his arm, and yanks him back. Hard.</p><p>‘Sam, are you <em> insane</em>? We have no way of killing this thing, we have no plan…’</p><p>‘Dean is in there!’ Sam shouts at him, like that’s some sort of a reasonable counterpoint that trumps everything.</p><p>Miles takes a deep breath. ‘Look, <em> believe me</em>, I’m not exactly good with the idea that all we have left of Dean is a trail of stupid fucking M&amp;Ms on the forest floor, but we need to regroup first.’</p><p>He’s vaguely aware of the searching look the youngest Collins brother shoots them, and Miles briefly wonders if there’s such a thing as a support group for people with two dead siblings, and if the idea of Ben in such a support group could convince Sam to stand down.</p><p>He prays his brother still has some sliver of common sense left in him, but then Sam’s eyes flash, all desperate and dangerous, and Miles knows it’s a lost cause.</p><p>Sam at twenty-two, four years of proper civilization and a dead girlfriend later, might be a little different around the edges, not quite the person he was at eighteen, but it’s still Sam, and Miles knows him too goddamn well.</p><p>He lets him tear away from his grip.</p><p>‘Shit,’ he says, as he watches Sam go inside without even glancing back at him. He doesn’t <em> have to </em>look back, is the thing, because Sam knows him just as well. And Sam only has to ask; Miles will follow him anywhere - a Wendigo’s lair, or the depths of Hell itself.</p><p> </p><p>Miles can’t quite believe their luck when they find both Haley and Dean, mostly unharmed. They help them down, and Miles breathes a temporary sigh of relief.</p><p>‘You sure you’re all right?’ Sam asks Dean, sounding tender, concerned and oh-so-soft, but before Miles could even begin to figure out how he feels about the tone of his voice, Sam reaches out towards him and squeezes his shoulder. <em> One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven… </em>A thank-you.</p><p>(And fuck, Miles thinks maybe he <em> is </em> the dumb one. Why did it take this mess for him to realize that they never <em> lost </em> their secret twin language as they grew older, that it just became something else, an intricate system of touches and body language, an instinctive Morse code made up of shoulder-squeezes and arm pats?)</p><p>The three of them watch in strangely content silence as Haley and Ben run to their own brother.</p><p><em> Shit, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead</em>, Miles prays, but he doesn’t really care anymore. As long as Sam and Dean are okay, as long as they get out of here alive.</p><p>While Sam cuts down Tommy - who does turn out to be relatively okay - Miles and Dean start searching through the stolen provisions in a corner.</p><p>‘Sam!’ Dean calls. ‘Check out what Millie just found.’</p><p>There is a grin on Sam’s face. ‘Flare guns. Those’ll work.’</p><p>The sound of the growl that echoes through the cave just then shakes Miles right down to his core. While he’s busy trying to support Tommy’s entire weight and simultaneously attempting to construct a plan that won’t get them all killed, Sam and Dean apparently come up with their own.</p><p>‘We’ll never outrun it,’ Haley says, and if Miles weren’t carrying her half-dead brother’s body, he’d definitely offer a sarcastic comment about her incredible insight.</p><p>Dean looks at Sam, and Miles already has a Han Solo-style <em>bad feeling</em> about this.</p><p>‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Dean asks him.</p><p>‘Yeah, I think so,’ Sam replies, and god, Miles hates them.</p><p>‘All right, listen to me. Stay with my brothers. They’re gonna get you out of here,’ Dean instructs Haley, who just gapes at him.</p><p>‘What are you gonna do?’</p><p>Dean has the fucking audacity to <em> wink </em>at her, before he runs off to distract the Wendigo, twirling his flare gun like a psychopath, and Miles feels hysterical.</p><p>‘Fuck,’ he curses, shooting Sam an ugly look, because <em> seriously? We literally just ran in here to save his ass. </em></p><p>‘Shut up,’ Sam tells him, and… okay. <em> Okay. </em></p><p>‘Let’s go.’<br/>

</p>
<p>They are almost outside when the growling grows louder and Sam stops, turns back, points the gun at it.</p><p>‘Get them outta here,’ he says, and god fucking dammit, Miles knew this was coming, he would have bet his favorite knife on it.</p><p>‘No, Sam, come <em> on</em>,’ he tries, as he watches Sam’s fingers tighten around the flare gun.</p><p>‘Sam, no,’ Haley says too, as she catches his meaning, finally on the same fucking page as Miles about all this self-sacrificing business. She doesn’t have the benefit of twenty-two years of experience, a goddamn front row seat to how Sam and Dean’s relationship works though, so Miles tugs at Haley, because to him it’s obvious that trying to convince Sam is pointless. He’s certain Sam won’t come, that there’s no chance in hell that he’ll leave Dean behind.</p><p>Miles’s brother attempts what looks more like a grimace than the reassuring smile he knows Sam is trying for, then takes off, back where they came from. Miles is not sure how he feels about this whole new reckless version of Sam.</p><p>‘Crap,’ he says, tightens his grip on Haley’s brother, lets Ben help him by taking some of Tommy’s weight. Well, Ben had a lucky escape, but the dead siblings support group psychologist will have a field day with Miles at least.</p><p> </p><p>x</p><p> </p><p>While they wait for the ambulance, Miles takes a stock of both his brothers, quick and sure fingers reaching under shirts, searching for injuries, thoroughly, like Dad taught him, making absolutely sure there aren’t any wounds they are hiding from him.</p><p>‘Okay, Mills, come on,’ Dean says, trying to push his hands away.</p><p>‘We’re fine, Miles,’ Sam insists too.</p><p>He ignores them, and continues with his examinations. ‘You’re both so fucking stupid,’ he tells them for the hundredth time, and neither of them protests.</p><p>They say goodbye to the Collins siblings and the three of them watch in companionable silence as the ambulance drives away. Miles can feel the familiar high of a successful case settle into his veins. He smiles a private little smile at his boots, enjoying while the adrenaline is still working through him, and exhaustion is not hitting him too bad yet. He’s looking forward to another night of rather comfortable sleep - the motel rollaway turned out fairly decent in the end - because there’s no way they are letting Dean drive right now, even if they’re all itching to leave Lost Creek behind.</p><p>One more night at the motel, then they can get on the road again, Miles encourages himself. And then this town too will become a blur, the Impala’s staticky radio washing away all the blood and the pain. The endlessly empty-seeming highways and the sound of Sam and Dean’s bickering from the front seat will make Miles forget and forget and <em> forget</em>, right until he’s once again become blissfully hopeful that next time it’ll all be different.</p><p>'Man, I hate camping,’ Dean says, and Sam hurries to agree with him:</p><p>'Me too.’</p><p>Miles suppresses a smirk. 'I don't know... I had fun<em>.</em>'</p><p>'Shut up, Miles,’ his brothers say in unison, and for once he just laughs, letting them have the last word.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos on the previous twin verse fic, you guys are fab - it means so fucking much! 💕 if you liked this, feel free to subscribe to the series - there's more coming:)</p><p>buy me a <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/nowhereblake">coffee</a> if you feel like ☕</p></blockquote></div></div>
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